


Homecoming

by Lucyemers



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, Post Season 7, Religion, Sickfic, existential flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucyemers/pseuds/Lucyemers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Tumblr prompt "coming home".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/gifts).



> For a Tumblr promt from Glim who likes a good fluffy hurt/comfort fic as much as I do ;)  
> Takes place post season 7 after Hathaway visits the cathedral but doesn't go in. I figured that was hinting at some more religious disillusionment and soul searching on his part.

It was 2:00 a.m. when Robbie got the call. Laura was visiting family and his first terrified thought was that something had happened to her. Old fears, old nightmares, they linger. His second thought was that a body had been found and he peevishly wondered why they hadn’t waited until morning to ring. 

But when he finally silenced the phone by answering, the voice on the other end of the line was unmistakable if uncharacteristically shaky, “S--sir?”

“James?” 

“Mm...sorry it’s so late.” Something was off in his voice. If Robbie hadn’t spent a few too many nights out at the pub with James he would have said he was drunk, but he was unfortunately versed in the lad’s tipsy stammering and this wasn’t it.

“What’s wrong, James? Didn’t know you were home.”

“I’m home but not..sir.” There was a faint sniffing that brought to mind either tears or illness, but when he heard him dissolve into harsh gasping coughs he started to suspect the latter. 

“You’re home but not? James, where are you?”

“I’m home...but I can’t get in. It’s freezing. Should of thought of that when I left. Wasn’t this cold in Spain.”

“Where are you?” he repeated.

“At home”, he sounded exasperated as if Robbie had asked something unbearably stupid.  
Robbie was beginning to expect fever and wondering if James’s call was merely the result of delirium and boredom, but the “freezing” part didn’t sound good, especially not in the middle of the night while ill. He sighed through his mounting worry and forced himself to speak slowly, “Home as in England? Oxford? Visiting Nell? Where’s home?”

He could hear James laughing briefly and bitterly and then gasping a bit through another coughing fit. “I don’t know!” he nearly yelled. “I mean that’s the question, isn’t it? Where? I don’t know.” He paused, sighed, continued, “But you have a key.” 

Ah. So he meant home quite literally. Robbie had been taking in the mail now and again while James was away doing god knows what, so yes he had a key to his flat. Apparently his disoriented friend could not say the same. 

“I’ll be over in a tick. Try and keep warm”, he hoped he sounded soothing through his annoyance. 

He didn’t much care for driving across town in the middle of the night, but he found as he hastily dressed that he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. As he navigated easily through the empty streets, grateful for his car’s functional heat, he remembered how baffled he’d been by James’s decision to leave. He always seems perfectly tracked toward an Inspector position and would have been more than competent. He always knew the lad was prone to bouts of “existential flu” as he called it, but he had always chalked that up to a mind not a peace with its past and a bit of mild depression. He never thought he was truly unhappy at work. And then James had left on his strange little sabbatical, burning up all the vacation time he earned but never took and swearing Robbie to secrecy about his plan to resign upon returning. He hadn’t called or written. It had been two months. He could feel a part of him that he hadn’t realized was worried start to relax. He was glad James was home existential and actual flu notwithstanding.

When he arrived at the flat he found James huddled up on the doorstep, arms wrapped around his knees shivering. He didn’t seem to notice Robbie until he was right beside him, pulling him to his feet and unlocking the door as quickly as possible (there would be time enough for greeting once they were both out of the elements). 

After taking him by the shoulders and helping him over the threshold, shutting the door behind them he gave James a quick looking over. He was clearly exhausted, still shivering and eyes fever bright, but otherwise the same, and he was suddenly fiercely struck by how much he’d missed him. “Where’s your key then?” 

“Travels”, he replied with such gravity and ominousness that Robbie would have laughed if James hadn’t started to cough and then to sway on his feet. Wrapping an arm round his shoulders he waited for James to catch his breath and lead him to the couch, thinking he would be better off in bed but doubting whether he could maneuver so gangly and shaky a body up the stairs without both of the taking a tumble.

“That doesn’t sound good, pet. How long have you been ill? And when did you get home?” 

“Earlier today. Not sure. A bit?” He blinked up at him but didn’t clarify which answer belonged to which question. Robbie decided against pressing the issue and instead pressed a palm to his forehead. Definitely a bit too warm, but not dangerously so, but judging by the way James was curling in on himself and pressing his side into the sofa he was still freezing. 

“Ah well. Tell me all about your pilgrimage in the morning.”

“Not a pilgrimage”, he snapped, rather more forcefully than Robbie thought him capable of at the moment.

“Alright.” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “We’ll talk about the not pilgrimage in the morning. Just keep awake long enough to have some tea to warm you up and take a few paracetamol.”

After he’d located blankets and talked about the mundanities of retirement long enough to keep James from falling asleep into his tea, he put the phone by the sofa and told him he’d be back the next morning to check his temperature and make him a proper breakfast. He was headed toward the door when he realized James had started talking.

“I won’t make it to mass tomorrow. I haven’t made it to mass in two years. I...” he took a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I mind..but..that’s what makes me scared.” Robbie walked back to the sofa but James’s eyes were far off working through something that he wondered whether he should be present for. He closed his eyes and Robbie thought he was asleep, but no sooner had he turned to leave that he heard him whispering. “I’ve done a lot. I’ve left a lot undone.” His eyes were bright with fever but ablaze with worry and regret. He perched on the edge of the sofa hoping the movement would call James back to the present. He brushed away the hair that was clinging to his forehead. He straightened the blankets. He made as many small, calming movements that he could to call him back from that place deep inside his own thoughts. And then he sat and laid a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Let it go, canny lad. You can let it go, you know that. You’re home.”

“I’m not leaving.” James murmured. 

“We’d never want you to”, Robbie whispered back.

**Author's Note:**

> Hathaway's ramblings refer to the Catholic confession of sin, "Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you...by what we have done and what we have left undone."


End file.
